<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>La Doular Exquise by Floral_and_Fine</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24778435">La Doular Exquise</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Floral_and_Fine/pseuds/Floral_and_Fine'>Floral_and_Fine</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sherlock (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Jealousy, Multi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 08:48:22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,444</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24778435</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Floral_and_Fine/pseuds/Floral_and_Fine</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Greg Lestrade is in a new relationship with y/n, and to everyone, they appear very happy together and very much in love. Surprisingly, Mycroft finds himself longing for something similar.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Greg Lestrade/Reader, Mycroft Holmes/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>116</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Suddenly I had this idea even though I haven’t written anything for Sherlock before, but since I’ve been spending so much time at home, I’ve been re-watching a lot of shows! Anyways, I really like the direction this story ended up going, I may write a part 2 :) (Also think it’s been a long time since I’ve played Charades so sorry in advance)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“What’s wrong with Lestrade?” Sherlock questioned, staring at the inspector instead of scrutinizing the crime scene for clues.</p><p>“What do you mean what’s wrong with him?” John asked looking up from the dead body.</p><p>“He’s happy, very happy…” Sherlock muttered, narrowing his eyes. Slowly, he stood from his crouched position, no longer interested in the case. </p><p>“And that’s a problem?” John questioned in disbelief, he didn’t quite understand what Sherlock was getting at. “Also, shouldn’t we be focusing on what happened here?” </p><p>“Already figured it out,” Sherlock stated, stepping over the body, trying to get closer to Lestrade. “Isn’t it obvious?”</p><p>John looked at the scene before him, dead body on the ground dressed in a mascot costume, the man had somehow managed to drown despite not being anywhere near water and his costume was still completely dry. </p><p>“No it’s not,” he said, throwing his arms up in frustration. </p><p>For a few brief seconds, Sherlock observed Lestrade closely, before a smirk formed on his lips. “Aha!” He laughed triumphantly. “Gordon’s been dating someone… a woman… considerably younger as well.”</p><p>John shook his head, “how can you tell?”</p><p>“Well, for one the dramatic change in attitude, plus telling by his clothes and hair he’s taken a new interest in his appearance, typical of those in a budding relationship.”</p><p>“And how do you know she’s younger?” John pressed. </p><p>“See how he keeps checking his phone,” Sherlock pointed out. “He’s using a messaging app used by young adults, rather than middle-aged men.”</p><p>“So?”</p><p>“So,” Sherlock elaborated, with an eye roll, “he smiles like an idiot every time he gets a new message, hence, that's how he and his new girlfriend are communicating.” </p><p>John watched as Lestrade checked his phone again, pulling it out from his jacket pocket when he assumed no one was looking. He really did smile like an idiot, grinning from ear to ear as he quickly typed his reply.</p><p>“Good for him,” he said sincerely, John knew how difficult it could be trying to date, especially with a job like his. He deserved to be happy, especially after that nasty divorce he went through.</p><p>Tucking his phone back into his jacket, Greg noticed the pair watching him. </p><p>“Any ideas as to what happened here?” He asked, approaching them.</p><p>“Yes,” Sherlock said spiritlessly. “But it’s rather boring and dull, I’d rather talk about the woman you’re seeing.”</p><p>“Oh, you already noticed that?” Greg rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. “We’ve only been out a few times, we’re not exactly official yet.”</p><p>“Are you concerned about the age difference?” Sherlock interrogated, not caring how rude it sounded. </p><p>“Sherlock,” John muttered trying to urge his friend to shut up.</p><p>Greg just laughed lightly and shrugged, “honestly, I thought I would be, but I’m not.” Another big grin appeared on his face just at the thought of her. “I’m quite surprised by it all.”</p><p>“Well, why don’t you bring her for Christmas, so we can properly meet her?” John suddenly suggested.</p><p>Sherlock groaned loudly, he had forgotten all about the holidays, completely forgetting that his parents would be visiting.<br/>
.<br/>
.<br/>
.</p><p>Mycroft stood outside of his brother’s flat, enjoying a quick smoke, before joining in on the festivities. He could barely keep himself from rolling his eyes, if it weren’t for the fact his parents were expecting him, he wouldn’t have bothered to come at all. </p><p>He sighed, knowing that he couldn’t postpone this much longer. Eventually, his mother would track him down and he’d be scolded like a child for making everyone wait. </p><p>Just as he was about to put out his cigarette, a taxi pulled up to the curb, and a woman, who Mycroft didn’t recognize, stepped out of the vehicle. </p><p>His eyes narrowed in suspicion, he knew everyone, and he literally meant everyone, his little brother was acquainted with. Rapidly, Mycroft assessed the stranger, she appeared relatively harmless, worked as a daycare worker or teacher perhaps. She dressed quite nicely and sensibly for the weather. Telling by the hair stuck to her jumper, she either had a cat or dog at home. </p><p>“Merry Christmas!” She greeted, waving at him cheerfully. </p><p>Mycroft nodded his head in acknowledgment, saying Merry Christmas back in rather bleak fashion. His eyes darted back towards the taxi as another person got out. </p><p>“Merry Christmas!” Inspector Lestrade waved.</p><p>The couple approached him, and Lestrade made quick introductions, “Mycroft, this is y/n.”</p><p>She extended her hand out, “Nice to meet, Mycroft.”</p><p>Mycroft took in several more details, before finally accepting her hand, like the shade of her nail polish to the choice of her shoes. </p><p>“Heard you’re smarter than your brother,” she complimented. “That’s pretty impressive.”</p><p>“I suppose,” Mycroft commented dryly. </p><p>“Well, we better go say hello to everyone else,” Lestrade said, nodding at Mycroft before taking y/n by the hand and leading her towards the door. The poor fool was smiling so big that it made him look completely mad. </p><p>“Aren’t you coming?” Y/n called out to Mycroft, her eyes filled with excitement before Lestrade knocked on the door. </p><p>“I’ll be up in a moment,” Mycroft said, taking out another cigarette and lighting it.<br/>
.<br/>
.<br/>
.</p><p>As Mycroft entered the flat he noted that Mrs. Hudson and his parents were in the kitchen chatting away and preparing food. Molly sat watching Sherlock play violin awestruck. John and his date stood close by whispering to each other. And then there was y/n and Lestrade standing by the fireplace completely in their own world. </p><p>After saying a quick Merry Christmas to his parents, Mycroft sat alone on the couch. He wasn’t planning on staying long, just long enough that his mother wouldn’t complain about him leaving so early. </p><p>From the other side of the room, Lestrade groaned as his phone started ringing, giving his date a quick kiss, he excused himself taking the call in the hallway.</p><p>Y/n stood by the fireplace, her nails anxiously tapping against the side of her glass. Her eyes scanned the room until she spotted Mycroft sitting alone on the couch. “Mind if I join you?” </p><p>Mycroft nodded, scooting over a bit. He sat with his legs crossed, elbow resting on the arm of the couch with an umbrella in hand. </p><p>“Not planning on staying long?” She joked, gesturing to the umbrella. </p><p>Mycroft half smiled, “Just prepared to leave early, should things go awry.”</p><p>Y/n chuckled and continued to sip on her drink. They sat next to one another, in comfortable silence, while she patiently waited for Greg to return. </p><p>“Your brother plays very well,” she whispered, watching Sherlock who seemed like he was elsewhere mentally. </p><p>Mycroft was about to respond until he was suddenly interrupted. </p><p>“Sorry, love,” Greg said, abruptly re-entering the room walking towards y/n.  “That was work, afraid I have to go in.”</p><p>“That’s alright,” she reassured him, standing up and wrapping her arms around his neck. “It can’t be helped.”</p><p>With that she pressed her lips against his, Lestrade was quick to return the kiss, placing his hands on her waist. </p><p>Mycroft found himself looking the other way, uncharacteristically bothered by the display of affection taking place before him.</p><p>“I’ll call you tonight,” Greg murmured quietly, before he reluctantly pulled away from her, and grabbed his coat.<br/>
“Merry Christmas, everyone!” He shouted as he rushed out the door. </p><p>Y/n clasped her hands together, looking around the room, “Well, I suppose I should go too.” </p><p>“Oh, don’t be silly, dear,” Mrs. Hudson tutted, waltzing into the living area carrying a tray with tea. “At least stay long enough to have something to eat.”</p><p>“Guess I could keep Mycroft company awhile longer,” she smiled, taking her seat back on the couch next to him. “If that’s alright with you?” She asked him.</p><p>“Be my guest.”</p><p>The rest of the evening progressed full of merriment, food, drinking, and Christmas carols.</p><p>At some point, Mrs. Holmes started sharing stories about Mycroft and Sherlock from when they were children. Which everyone found quite amusing with the exception of her sons, who shared an unamused look as she continued to describe the time she found them covered in some type of slime after a failed experiment. </p><p>Mycroft risked a quick glance at y/n who was hiding her laughter behind her hand. Watching her react so lively made him smile to himself, not that it lasted long. As soon as he noticed, he returned to grimacing as his mother started another story, this one was about when. Sherlock had borrowed his clothes and pretended to be his big brother for a whole week.<br/>
.<br/>
.<br/>
.</p><p>“Why don’t we play a game,” John’s date suggested. </p><p>After some debate, the group finally settled on playing Charades. Somehow Mycroft had been roped into being y/n’s partner. Although She seemed rather pleased by it. </p><p>“Merry go round!” Sherlock shouted, staring at Molly, and becoming more irate by the second. “Ferris wheel! Clock!”</p><p>“Times up!” John announced, sounding rather pleased. </p><p>“Well, what was it?” Sherlock demanded. </p><p>“The solar system,” Molly muttered quietly, handing him the card.</p><p>Sherlock scoffed, “Who needs to know anything about the solar system! This game is ridiculous! Utter waste of time!”</p><p>“Stop being such a rotten sport!” His mother reprimanded from the kitchen, where she was helping Mrs. Hudson tidy up. </p><p>“Well, Mycroft and y/n it’s your turn,” John said, holding out the cards to y/n.</p><p>Mycroft watched her movements intently, “a book, two words…” he furrowed his brow slightly as he watched y/n imitate the action of stabbing or perhaps using a spear? Then a subtle smile appeared on his face. “Moby Dick.”</p><p>Y/n bounced up and down clapping excitedly, “you got it!”</p><p>Mycroft chuckled, feeling rather pleased with himself, and for a brief moment, he had forgotten that y/n wasn’t with him. That you weren’t in fact his date. He had been having such a good time that it had seemed to have slipped his mind. </p><p>His smile faltered, feeling rather odd about whatever he was feeling, but he hid it well, especially as she showered him with praise. </p><p>As John and his date took their turns, the game seemed to fade into the background. In his own head, Mycroft was having a rather difficult time trying to process what he was feeling. </p><p>He didn’t understand at all what he found so agreeable about her, why her company didn’t aggravate him. Typically, he became at least moderately annoyed being around anyone for such a long period of time. </p><p>Y/n gently placed her hand on Mycroft knee, “are you alright?”</p><p>Mycroft quirked an eyebrow in response, caught off guard that she noticed a change in his behavior. </p><p>“You’re just somehow quieter,” she explained, tilting her head.</p><p>“It’s nothing,” Mycroft replied with a small smile. Even despite all the confusion he felt, he managed to enjoy the rest of his time with y/n. </p><p>Finally, the night was coming to an end. Being the gentleman that he was, he stood outside with y/n as she waited for a cab. </p><p>“I had lots of fun tonight,” she shared suddenly. “Thank you for including me.”</p><p>“Of course,” he nodded, once again smiling all of a sudden. </p><p>Soon the taxi approached, and Mycroft got the door for her. He felt a sinking feeling in his gut, he wanted her to stay just a little longer, or he wanted to join her on her ride home. However, neither option was appropriate. </p><p>“Good night, Mycroft,” she said, as she climbed into the backseat.“And Merry Christmas.”</p><p>“Merry Christmas, y/n.”</p><p>…</p><p>Walking into his large home, Mycroft removed his coat hanging it up on the rack and placed his umbrella by the door.</p><p>He didn’t understand why this bothered him so much. Mycroft had encountered plenty of other happy couples before, but none of them had ever left him with this feeling of jealousy and loneliness. </p><p>As much as he tried to deny it, he knew deep down he envied Lestrade, which for Mycroft, was a hard pill to swallow. Before y/n, he practically pitied the detective. But now the inspector had something that Mycroft wanted. </p><p>What was so bewildering about it, was that he had never wanted something like that before. He never cared for or wanted any type of companionship or relationship. It seemed so frivolous,</p><p>But now his mind wandered to the what if’s, such as, what would it be like to not come home alone. </p><p>Despite his better judgment, Mycroft gave into his imagination. The downside of having a mind like his is that was how he could picture things so clearly in his head.</p><p>He could practically see her now, slightly tipsy, clinging to his arm with one hand for stability as she removes her shoes. Then, he would hear the soft pitter-patter of her bare feet as she made her way to the bedroom. </p><p>Mycroft started to loosen his tie as he walked towards his room. </p><p>As he would enter, he would find her jumper and leggings strewn about on the floor. But instead of making it an issue now, he’d ask her to pick them up in the morning. </p><p>Mycroft headed towards his closet, undressing and putting on his pajamas. </p><p>As he would step back into the room, y/n would pop her head through the door of the master bathroom, with a toothbrush hanging out of her mouth. She’d smile widely at him before finishing. “Almost done!” She would call out to him.</p><p>Mycroft turned out the light and climbed into bed. Despite having such a large bed to himself, he always slept on one side, never really spreading out. </p><p>He pictured what it would be like for y/n to join him in bed. She’d gently kiss him good night, before resting her head against his chest. He imagined what it would be like to hold her, feel the warmth radiating off her form, to caress her back in a soothing manner until she fell asleep.</p><p>Mycroft groaned loudly, rolling over and burying his face against his pillow. There was no point in indulging himself with these fantasies any longer. No matter how clearly he could picture it, this alternate life, there was nothing he could do to change his reality. She simply wasn’t his.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Part 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Everything alright?” John asked Sherlock, as he came in after a quick shopping trip. Sherlock was still standing by the window staring down at the street, exactly where John had left him. </p>
<p>Sherlock was oddly focused, considering they had no cases at the moment to work on. By now he’d usually be tearing the flat apart or putting more bullet holes in the walls out of boredom. </p>
<p>“Saw Mycroft this morning,” he muttered, “something was off about him.”</p>
<p>“How could you tell?” John chuckled, setting the groceries down on the kitchen table. </p>
<p>“He was nicer than usual, quieter too.”</p>
<p>John furrowed his brow, “what do you think it could be?”</p>
<p>“Not sure yet,” Sherlock answered, finally turning around, and taking a seat in his chair. “Never seen him like this.”</p>
<p>“You seem concerned,” John pointed out, putting away a few things in the fridge. “Are you worried about him?”</p>
<p>Sherlock scoffed, “Please, it’s Mycroft, I’m just surprised that he’s capable of feeling things…” He went quiet for a moment, “You don’t suppose he has feelings for someone do you?”</p>
<p>John shrugged, “I don’t know, I don’t really picture him as the type.”</p>
<p>“Right,” Sherlock agreed. “It’s an absolutely ludicrous idea.”</p>
<p>“Well, I wouldn’t go that far,” John contended, sitting in his seat across from Sherlock. </p>
<p>Unexpectedly, Sherlock broke out into a fit of giggles. “Could you just imagine?” He gasped, practically falling out of his chair. “My brother, Mycroft, with a wife? Or children?”</p>
<p>John tried to hold back his laughter as he pictured Mycroft married, little kids running around causing a ruckus. From what he knew about Mycroft, he really didn’t seem like the family man type. He barely seemed to tolerate his own parents. </p>
<p>“What’s got you two in such a good mood?” Mrs. Hudson asked, carrying in a tray of tea over to the coffee table.</p>
<p>Sherlock sighed, catching his breath, “just imagining Mycroft in love, completely ridiculous idea isn’t it?”</p>
<p>“Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” Mrs. Hudson explained knowingly. “He seemed rather smitten by that girl.”</p>
<p>“What girl?” Sherlock questioned sitting up, completely surprised.</p>
<p>“That one that came with Lestrade on Christmas. Such a sweet girl... Could do Mycroft a lot of good having someone like her around.” </p>
<p>Sherlock's face fell as he tried to recall Christmas Day, Mycroft did seem more at ease than usual, smiled more often. Sherlock crossed his legs, and put his hands together in front of him as he contemplated over what a peculiar situation his brother was in. <br/>.<br/>.<br/>.</p>
<p>“To what do I owe the pleasure, little brother?” Mycroft questioned, looking up from his computer with a quirk of his brow. It was a rare occasion for his brother to show up at his home unannounced or uninvited. “It’s not like you to drop by just for a visit.”</p>
<p>“It’s come to my attention that you’re interested in y/n l/n,” Sherlock stated getting right to the point.</p>
<p>Mycroft paused for a brief moment before answering, but it was just long enough for Sherlock to suspect that he was right. </p>
<p>“And what gave you that idea?”</p>
<p>“The fact that you hesitated before answering,” Sherlock smirked. “I’m right then, aren’t I? You like her.”</p>
<p>Mycroft rolled his eyes, “Don’t say such ridiculous things, Sherlock. Makes you sound ignorant.”</p>
<p>Sherlock frowned but continued to press on, “you’re right Mycroft, it is a rather ridiculous notion, but that doesn’t make it any less true.”</p>
<p>“Sherlock,” Mycroft warned, hoping he’d drop the subject. </p>
<p>“Who would’ve thought you, of all people, would be susceptible to the charms of a goldfish,” Sherlock said, twisting Mycroft’s words against. “I thought caring wasn’t an advantage, Mycroft.”</p>
<p>“And what do you suggest I do about it?” Mycroft snapped, losing his patience. “Let’s say I do like her, what can I possibly do about it?”</p>
<p>Sherlock stood there speechless, truth is he had no clue what Mycroft could do about it. In fact, he himself had never been in this type of situation.</p>
<p>“She’s already with someone,” Mycroft said exasperatedly, staring at his little brother. He turned his attention to his desk with a solemn expression. “Even if she wasn’t, I know I’m not the kind of person she’s looking for. I’m not the relationship type.”</p>
<p>“That’s quite the predicament you have,” Sherlock said quietly, then a small smile formed on his lips. “Practically makes running a country look easy.”</p>
<p>Mycroft stifled a laugh and Sherlock chuckled, managing to ease the tension. </p>
<p>With a drawn out sigh, Mycroft leaned back in his seat, “whatever this is, it’ll pass. Just a one time fluke, that’s all it is.”</p>
<p>Sherlock gave his brother a skeptical look, before seeing himself out. </p>
<p>Days went by, then weeks, but Mycroft still couldn’t get y/n out of his head. He kept tabs on her, often checking her status on social media and such. </p>
<p>The things he learned about her from different sources, only made him like her more. She spent most of her time outside of work at home, was an avid reader, and was quite clever and witty. </p>
<p>He knew this wasn’t making things any better, but when he fought the urge to, all he ended up doing was thinking about her even more. </p>
<p>On the rare occasion that Mycroft was home and not working, his mind would wander back to all those what-ifs. As much as he hated to admit, even if just to himself, Mycroft was well aware that he was lonely. <br/>.<br/>.<br/>.</p>
<p>After Mycroft had finished reading the paper at the Diogenes Club, he decided to go for a little stroll. </p>
<p>The sky was partially cloudy, and the streets and sidewalks were crowded as usual. Suddenly, Mycroft spotted a familiar face walking towards him. He stopped in his tracks on the sidewalk, waiting for y/n to get closer. </p>
<p>Somehow she was prettier than he remembered, but she also seemed troubled. </p>
<p>He could tell just by the way she carried herself, on Christmas she floated and flitted about like a butterfly, but today she trudged down the street like she was weighed down by some unseen burden.</p>
<p>“Y/n?” Mycroft called out somewhat softly at first, but she didn’t seem to hear him, worried she’d walk right past him, Mycroft tried again a little louder. </p>
<p>Her head snapped up at the sound of her name. “Mycroft! Sorry, I didn’t see you,” she explained, approaching him. “My mind was elsewhere.”</p>
<p>Immediately, Mycroft could tell she had been crying. But unlike Sherlock, he wasn’t going to immediately pry into her business and deduce why she was upset out loud. Instead, like a proper gentleman, he’d keep all his deductions to himself. </p>
<p>Now, what could have her so upset? Work? No, it’s Saturday. A deceased family member? No, she’d be in even more distress if that were the case. </p>
<p>Mycroft swallowed thickly when he realized it most likely had to do with her relationship with Lestrade. </p>
<p>“Would you like to join me for tea?” Y/n offered, with a small smile, tearing Mycroft away from his thoughts.</p>
<p>“I-“ Mycroft quickly mulled over his options, considering all the repercussions, there were many reasons why spending time with her was a bad idea, however, none of those reasons were enough to persuade him. </p>
<p>Mycroft nodded, “I’d like that.”</p>
<p>They started walking side by side towards the nearest tea shop.</p>
<p>“It’s been some time since I last saw you, Mycroft,” y/n said. “How have you been?”</p>
<p>“Fine,” he answered, not really divulging any additional information. </p>
<p>Y/n giggled to herself, she had already learned from the Christmas party that Mycroft wasn’t one for small talk so she wasn’t too surprised with his short answer.</p>
<p>For the rest of the walk, a comfortable silence fell between them. Mycroft appreciated that y/n wasn’t the type to chit chat just for the sake of noise, that she didn’t mind the quiet. </p>
<p>An image formed in his mind of them sitting together on the couch, y/n leaning against him, as they both enjoy a quiet evening in. Both of them would be too engrossed in their books to bother with any talking, but still could appreciate being close to one another. </p>
<p>Finally, they reached the tea shop and found a nice secluded table towards the back. </p>
<p>“So how have you been?” Mycroft asked, trying to strike up a conversation now that they were somewhere quiet.</p>
<p>“I’m- I’m good,” y/n started but then frowned, her shoulders slumping as she looked up at Mycroft. “There’s no point in lying to you is there? You already know I’m not fine, huh?”</p>
<p>Mycroft nodded, “I could tell immediately when I saw your face.”</p>
<p>She groaned, “Do I really look that bad?”</p>
<p>Mycroft chuckled, “not many people are as observant as I am, I doubt anyone else has noticed.” </p>
<p>A comfortable silence fell between them again. Mycroft watched carefully as y/n prepared her cup of tea to her liking. While he wouldn’t bother learning this about most people, he figured knowing this could work to his benefit in the future. </p>
<p>She carefully took a sip, her eyes filled with worry.</p>
<p>“Would you like to share what’s troubling?” Mycroft offered. </p>
<p>She bit her lip, trying to decide where to start. "Last night, I mentioned to Greg how I'd like to get married one day. Not that I was hinting at it or anything, it's still far too soon to even think about that. But he freaked out over it."</p>
<p>Y/n sighed rubbing her forehead, "He went on a rant about how he'd never make that mistake again. That getting married was the worst decision he ever made. I know that his marriage ended badly, but I didn't think it ruined the whole idea of it… he even said that he doesn't want any children either." </p>
<p>Mycroft could tell it was hurting her to even just talk about it.</p>
<p>"I've always wanted to be a bride, to make that kind of promise with someone I love. I know it seems silly, that couples can stay together and be happy without having to be married, but I can’t seem to let it go…” y/n sniffed, fighting back tears. </p>
<p>Mycroft was surprised that the issue wasn’t related to Lestrade’s job. He was sure that the inspector’s erratic schedule was what was causing problems between them. </p>
<p>“I’m sorry Mycroft, I'm just rambling now," she shook her head. “I just don’t know what to do.”</p>
<p>Mycroft glanced at her face, her eyes slightly bloodshot from crying so much, the last thing he wanted was to upset her more. “Not sure if I’m the best person to ask.” </p>
<p>“I’d still like to hear your opinion on it,” she insisted, looking at him wide-eyed.</p>
<p>Mycroft nodded, setting his cup of tea back on the saucer, trying to choose his words wisely. “I’m afraid my point of view is rather limited on the subject, but inevitably I think the relationship is bound to come to an end no matter what you decide to do now.” </p>
<p>He paused, fiddling with his napkin for a moment before continuing. “I believe that even when two people truly care about one another, if they don’t want the same things from life, and their desires for whatever those goals are, is so strong that neither person bends, then it becomes rather painful for both parties involved,” he explained. “Eventually, somewhere along the line, they’ll be led down separate paths.” </p>
<p>“So what you’re pretty much saying is that Greg and I will most likely break up eventually, even if it's not now,” y/n reiterated as she processed what Mycroft was telling her. </p>
<p>“What I’m saying is, are you willing to give up what you want out of life for him? Give up on the idea of marriage and children?” Mycroft elaborated, adding more sugar to his tea. “Likewise, is Lestrade willing to change his mind for you? For the two of you to be happy someone has to give up.”</p>
<p>Y/n nodded, her eyes downcast, quickly she wiped away a few stray tears. “What would you do?”</p>
<p>“Depends,” Mycroft started, “Despite what people think of me or how I may appear, I usually find myself to be the compromising type, at least for those precious few who I care about."</p>
<p>“I think I understand,” y/n murmured. </p>
<p>Mycroft felt a pang of guilt in his chest, he was being completely honest with his answers, but he still felt like the guilty party, as though he was intentionally sabotaging her and Lestrade. </p>
<p>Y/n gently laid her hand on Mycroft’s, “Thank you, Mycroft for sharing your insight. It was very helpful.”</p>
<p>“Glad to be of assistance,” he half smiled, hoping he didn’t make things worse.</p>
<p>As they were about to part ways, Mycroft pulled out a business card from his jacket pocket, and quickly jotted a phone number on the back. “If you ever need anything,” he explained, handing her the card. “That’s my number.”</p>
<p>Mycroft’s brow furrowed, as he felt his stomach flutter. He was excited, confused, uncertain, but most of all hopeful. Perhaps, he could attain that life he pictured with her, in time. </p>
<p>For the rest of the day, Mycroft kept a close eye on his phone. Part of him felt ridiculous, constantly checking every few minutes. </p>
<p>But as he was getting ready to turn in for the night, he noticed his phone light upon the nightstand. Checking the message, a smile formed on his lips. </p>
<p>‘Hi, It’s y/n. I just thought you should have my number as well. Good night, Mycroft!’</p>
<p>Quickly, he replied wishing her good night as well. Mycroft chuckled, this was a start at least.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Boring!” Sherlock leaned back in his chair and groaning obnoxiously, “I said find me a good case. Something interesting!”</p><p>John rolled his eyes but kept scrolling through their emails anyways, desperate to find something that would get Sherlock off his back. He hated these dry spells, and having to deal with a moody Sherlock on top of it all.</p><p>“What about this one?” He asked. “Missing headstones from family plot.”</p><p>“Too easy,” Sherlock complained, shaking his head. “The culprit is obviously a family member.”</p><p>“Fine,” John sighed, continuing his search, there had to be something worthwhile.</p><p>Suddenly, there was a knock at their door.</p><p>“Come in!” John shouted as he clicked on an email, in which the subject line read, ‘HELP: my mother’s ghost is haunting my ex.’</p><p>“Hope I’m not interrupting anything,” Mycroft said, looking at Sherlock, who had been wearing the same robe and pants for the past three days, with a disappointed expression.</p><p>“You’re not,” John chirped, praying that Mycroft had something to keep Sherlock busy. “What do you need?”</p><p>Mycroft looked down at the floor for a moment, twisting his umbrella around in his hand. “I need some advice,” he finally stated looking back at John with an unreadable expression. </p><p>“Advice?” Sherlock repeated, suddenly perking up. </p><p>“Not from you,” Mycroft scowled. “From Dr. Watson.”</p><p>“Me?” John questioned, staring at Mycroft in disbelief.</p><p>Mycroft nodded, “yes, I’m not sure who else I can ask.”</p><p>Sherlock got to his feet. “What could John possibly help you with?” He demanded not bothering to hide his surprise or disdain at the idea. </p><p>Mycroft sighed, ignoring Sherlock’s outburst. “Mind joining me to my car, Dr. Watson? It’s waiting outside.”</p><p>“Sure,” John replied, though his tone was anything but. </p><p>With that Mycroft turned back around and headed out the door. </p><p>John gave Sherlock a sympathetic look before he quickly grabbed his coat. “See you in a bit,” he said then rushed down the stairs to catch up to Mycroft. </p><p>Sherlock slumped back down in his chair, pouting over being left out. What does John know that he doesn’t?</p><p> </p><p>John and Mycroft sat in silence, the little cafe Mycroft selected was full of people. His reasoning was that if Sherlock did follow, it would be harder for him to overhear their conversation without being noticed.</p><p>“So, what can I help you with?” John finally asked getting to the point. </p><p>“I’ve been talking with someone, lately,” Mycroft started. “And I want to show her that I’m interested in her.”</p><p>“Alright,” John nodded, trying to hide his amusement that Mycroft would come to him for relationship advice. “Well, how have you gone about it so far?”</p><p>“We’ve had tea together, I gave her my personal cell phone number, I’ve texted her practically every day since,” Mycroft rattled off. </p><p>John snickered, “I’m sorry, but that’s- that’s nothing, literally that is like the bare minimum of what people do for a friend or even an acquaintance.”</p><p>Mycroft’s face fell at John’s reaction. </p><p>“Sorry, sorry,” John sighed, “just figured you’d be better at this.”</p><p>Mycroft added more sugar to his tea. “I have some experience, but none in this context,” he huffed. “The issue here is timing. I have reason to believe that she will soon be available.”</p><p>John raised his brow, “Is y/n planning on breaking things off with Lestrade?” </p><p>Mycroft’s brow furrowed for a moment, he hadn’t mentioned who he had been talking to, figures Sherlock would share everything and anything with Dr. Watson. “Based on what she and I have discussed, yes.”</p><p>“So why do you need my help?” </p><p>“You have a history of… going from one relationship to another rather quickly,” Mycroft explained. “This is a delicate matter, I don’t want to act too soon, or too late.”</p><p>John gaped for a moment, slightly offended that Mycroft thought of him as the guy who easily moves on between women. </p><p>“That’s, that’s not something I can tell you,” John frowned. “She’ll either need time or not, my best advice is to see how she’s doing.”</p><p>Mycroft sighed, he figured as much. </p><p>…</p><p>Y/n stood outside the door of Greg’s flat, her heart beating faster with each passing second.  </p><p>On the way over she had planned everything, she was going to say, how this was about them wanting different things out of life, that she wanted things like marriage and children and respected his desire not to remarry. She still wants to be friends with him and truly cares about him, but she's realized that their relationship should end now before it gets even harder. </p><p>But now that she was here, standing outside his door, her nerves were getting the best of her. </p><p>“Just knock,” She whispered to herself. Taking a deep breath she rapped her knuckles against the door and waited. </p><p>“Y/n?” Greg greeted her with a smile giving her a quick peck on the cheek. “C’mon in.”</p><p>She could feel her resolve wearing thin, there were so many things she liked about Greg. He had this boyish charm that made her smile every time she saw him.</p><p>“Have a seat,” he said, gesturing to the couch. “Need a drink or anything?”</p><p>“I’m good,” y/n answered, then bit her lip. She needed to get this over with, but she couldn’t seem to find the words. </p><p>Greg sat next to her still smiling, he was in such a good mood. A part of her just wanted to enjoy this, sitting close to him, watching TV. </p><p>She had never broken up with anyone before, at least not when things hadn’t hit the fan. Things were still good between her and Greg. </p><p>His hand slid over to hers, his fingers wrapping her palm. She gave his hand a little squeeze, this wasn’t fair to him, she couldn’t lead him on just because she was scared.</p><p>“Greg, we need to talk,” y/n started, her eyes focused on their clasped hands. </p><p>His shoulders visibly slumped, “This can’t be good.”</p><p>“This isn’t easy for me,” she said, her vision starting to get slightly blurry. “But I think it would be best if we broke up.” She couldn’t face him so she kept looking down. </p><p>Greg sighed, his free hand running down his face, “This is about that conversation we had the other night isn’t it?”</p><p>“Yeah,” y/n murmured. “I just think that inevitably we’ll part ways.”</p><p>“You don’t know that,” Greg argued.</p><p>“Greg…” she sighed. “I want to get married, I want to have a baby, and that’s-“</p><p>“Fine!” He snapped, getting to his feet. “We’ll get married and have children, all of it, alright?”</p><p>“No, not like this, it shouldn’t have to be because of an ultimatum,” y/n shook her head. “It only works if we both want it.”</p><p>Greg started to pace, wracking his brain for something to say, some way to convince her that they could work it out. </p><p>Suddenly, y/n’s phone’s screen lit up to reveal that she had a new message from Mycroft. </p><p>“Mycroft? As in Mycroft Holmes?” Greg questioned, his tone distrustful.</p><p>Y/n nodded, “yeah, we had tea the other day.”</p><p>“Why would he bother talking to you?” His words stung, even if she knew that wasn’t his intention. </p><p>“What’s that supposed to mean?”</p><p>“It’s just not like him,” he shrugged. “He’s not the type to care about people. What would you and him have to talk about anyway?”</p><p>“I don’t know,” y/n said, crossing her arms. “We talk about little things like my job and books, that’s it.”</p><p>“Do you like him?” Greg asked suddenly. </p><p>The question caught y/n off guard. She honestly hadn’t thought about it. She enjoyed talking to him, she liked a lot of his quirky personality traits and habits, not to mention he was kind of cute in his own way… y/n could feel her heart beating faster, did she like him? How come she was barely realizing this?</p><p>Greg laughed dryly, “Well that’s it, isn’t it? You’ve moved on.”</p><p>“That’s not it at all!” y/n shouted, rising to stand. </p><p>“Oh really?” He scoffed, reaching for her phone. “Well, let’s see what it says?”</p><p>“Stop it,” she urged. “This has nothing to do with him. I’m done.” Shaking her head, y/n gathered her things before heading out. </p><p>Greg stared at the door, mouth hanging open. Y/n didn’t bother saying goodbye, slamming the door as she left. </p><p>.<br/>.<br/>.</p><p>Y/n dropped her purse on a nearby chair as she entered her home. “What a mess,” she muttered. Somehow what started out as a simple and sweet relationship had spiraled out of her control. </p><p>And now here she was possibly falling for another guy. </p><p>She couldn’t believe she hadn’t noticed earlier. She thought back to Christmas Day, and how much she enjoyed Mycroft’s company. How he attempted to make her visit pleasant, despite how obviously uncomfortable he was with it. She recalled how victorious she felt every time she made him smile, even if it was just a small one. </p><p>It didn’t help either how supportive he’s been while she tried to figure out things between her and Greg. How he was always quick to respond and gave her his honest opinions on things. </p><p>Y/n groaned loudly as she collapsed on her bed. Why didn’t she notice earlier that she was falling for Mycroft Holmes? But this just raised more problems. </p><p>At least with Greg she knew where she stood, that he did, in fact, care about her, was attracted to her, and wanted to be with her, even if getting married wasn’t an option.</p><p>With Mycroft, she had no clue if he wanted to be anything more than friends. Hell, she didn’t even know if he thought of her as a friend!</p><p>It could very well be that her loving him could only lead to more pain. She had heard how people referred to Mycroft as the iceman, and she had seen firsthand how he was distant from everyone including his family. Greg had even told her about how Mycroft frequently reminded Sherlock that caring wasn’t an advantage. </p><p>Looking up at the ceiling she wondered if he’d be willing to be at a disadvantage for her. If he could care for her enough to make that kind of compromise?</p><p>She shot up into a sitting position as her phone buzzed.</p><p>“Speak of the devil,” she whispered to herself. Y/n bit her lip as she read the read message.</p><p>‘Everything alright? You’ve been awfully quiet today.’</p><p>Y/n didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, she knew his concern was sincere, which only made her like him more. God, she just wanted to know if she meant anything to him.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Think I may do one more chapter, we'll see :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Sherlock!” Lestrade shouted as he burst into the flat. “Quick, we’ve got to go...” the inspector trailed off as he noticed that both Holmes brothers were present. </p><p>Sherlock and Mycroft remained seated, looking at Lestrade with unamused expressions. An untouched tray of tea sat on the table between them. It was obvious that the inspector had interrupted something important, especially knowing Mycroft. </p><p>The eldest Holmes raised his brow at the inspector who was currently gawking at him. “Good evening, Inspector Lestrade.”</p><p>Greg gulped, collecting his thoughts, as he tried his best to put his feelings aside. He finally gave Mycroft a curt nod in response. However, right under the surface, his blood was beginning to boil, Greg had placed all the blame on Mycroft for his failed relationship. </p><p>Sherlock’s eyes narrowed, sensing the odd tension between them.  His eyes shifted from the inspector to his brother then back to Greg again. He could tell from Lestrade’s posture that he was uncomfortable, his shoulders were stiff, and he was avoiding eye contact with Mycroft. His brother on the other hand was acting as cool and collected as ever,</p><p>“Looks like it’s time for me to leave,” Mycroft sighed, getting to his feet, and looking back at his brother. “Consider it at least, Sherlock,” he urged. </p><p>As Mycroft exited the flat, he could hear Sherlock interrogating Lestrade, something along the lines of what was that all about. Shaking his head, Mycroft continued to descend down the steps. Just as he opened the door, Mycroft was greeted by a familiar face.</p><p>“Mycroft,” John said slightly breathless, his hands full with groceries. </p><p>“Dr.Watson,” Mycroft nodded, stepping aside and holding the door open for the doctor. </p><p>“Thanks,” John muttered, entering the building. “How are things going with y/n, by the way?” He asked with a smile, he hadn’t seen Mycroft since their little chat. </p><p>“Not as well as I had hoped,” Mycroft muttered, his face rather expressionless, despite the defeated tone of his voice. </p><p>Not knowing really what to say, John grimaced. “Sorry about that.”</p><p>“Can’t be helped,” Mycroft sighed, seeing himself out. </p><p>As he approached the black car parked on the side of the street, his driver immediately opened and held the car door open for him. Getting into the back of the car, Mycroft pulled out his cellphone checking if he had any messages. He closed his eyes, as he felt his stomach drop in disappointment. </p><p>Y/n had become rather quiet and distant after breaking things off with Lestrade. He figured she’d need time, but as a couple of months passed, Mycroft started feeling anxious over it.  The only time he heard from her was if he texted her first, and even then her replies were short. </p><p>Opening his eyes again, Mycroft stared at his phone as he tried to decide if he should bother sending her a message today or give up completely on this ridiculous endeavor. </p><p>He feared that eventually, she’d stop responding altogether, all while he was still desperately trying to cling to her and his hopes of having a life with her. </p><p>Rubbing his forehead, Mycroft finally decided to turn off his phone, tucking it back into his jacket pocket. He had bigger things to worry about, anyway, in fact, he had a whole country to run. </p><p>…</p><p>Mycroft was late, he always sent a morning text without fail. In fact, it had become part of y/n’s routine, she’d wake up, get dressed, brew some tea, and then reply to his first message of the day. </p><p>She bit her thumb and stared at her phone, the screen was still black, but she kept expecting it to light up at any moment, alerting her that she had a new message. </p><p>Y/n wasted the rest of the morning waiting, her cup of tea now cold and forgotten, it wasn’t like Mycroft to not check-in.</p><p>Had she done something to upset him? She had been quiet lately, but it was just because she needed time, time to cry over Lestrade, and time to figure out her feelings for Mycroft. </p><p>She dumped her tea out in the sink, sighing as she washed the cup and left it to dry. </p><p>“Suppose, I could send him a text,” she muttered, picking up her phone. Quickly, she typed ‘good morning!’ and sent the message. </p><p>When he didn’t reply immediately after, y/n began to worry. There weren’t many situations in which Mycroft wouldn’t have his phone on him. </p><p>He was notorious for texting during meetings and such, always multitasking several different things while working, including conversing with y/n and getting constant updates on whatever Sherlock was up to. </p><p>There were only a couple of cases you could think of in which he wouldn’t have his phone handy. Such as, if he was currently meeting with someone so important that he had his phone off out of respect. </p><p>Or…y/n felt her heart sink, maybe he was in some kind of trouble. While he mostly worked behind the scenes, it doesn’t mean that he was never in the line of danger. </p><p>Y/n shook her head, she was getting ahead of herself. “He’s just in a meeting, probably with the queen,” she reasoned. “He’ll reply as soon as it’s over.” </p><p>But as the hours passed, and she still hadn’t heard from him, panic started to set in. Grabbing her phone she decided to call him, but when it went straight to voicemail. </p><p>“Hey, Mycroft,” she started, trying her best to sound calm. “I was… I was just calling to check in, give me a callback.” </p><p>She paced back and forth in her living room, wringing her hands. She kept trying to convince herself that he was fine, but at the same time this was Mycroft, he wasn’t the type to ignore phone calls or not return them. </p><p>Not knowing what else to do, she grabbed a sweater and hailed a cab outside of her flat. The only person she knew who could potentially help was Sherlock. He would know where Mycroft was or what he was up to. </p><p>Arriving in front of 221 B Baker st, it had started to rain out, but y/n didn’t care. She banged on the door a few times hoping Sherlock was home. </p><p>Finally, John answered the door, “y/n, what are you doing here?”</p><p>“Don’t suppose you’ve heard from Mycroft today?” She asked, looking slightly frantic while standing out in the rain. It was apparent that she hadn’t thought ahead before leaving her home. Her sweater wasn’t practical for this kind of weather, the material was thin and was already clinging to her skin. </p><p>“He stopped by early this morning, but I only spoke with him briefly,” he explained.</p><p>“Oh, I see,” y/n replied looking down and fidgeting with the hem of her sweater.</p><p>“Is everything alright?” He questioned. </p><p>“I just haven’t heard from him today,” she elaborated. “Which is just unlike him, is all.” </p><p>John smiled to himself over her concern for Mycroft, he doubted many people would fret over him like she was at this very moment. </p><p>“Well, Sherlock’s not in right now, but I can give you Mycroft’s home address if you’d like,” he offered.</p><p>Y/n beamed at John, “yes, please!”</p><p>…</p><p>Mycroft narrowed his eyes as the doorbell rang, who would be visiting at this hour? </p><p>Standing from his desk, he walked downstairs, shaking his hand as his mysterious visitor continued ringing the doorbell. </p><p>Opening the door, he was stunned to see y/n standing there practically soaking wet from the rain. It was quite a trek from the gate to his home.</p><p>“Oh, good,” y/n laughed, seeing Mycroft alive and well.  “You’re home.”</p><p>He lifted a brow and stepped aside allowing her in. “How did you get my address?” He asked.</p><p>“Sherlock, well, technically John,” she answered, with a shrug, now feeling absolutely ridiculous for overreacting. Mycroft was perfectly fine, which did bring her comfort, but it didn’t explain why he hadn’t responded to any of her messages or calls. </p><p>“Let me go fetch you a towel,” Mycroft said as he turned and headed towards a nearby linen closet. </p><p>Y/n furrowed her brows as she noticed that Mycroft was wearing shoes inside, they were a pair of black formal dress shoes that looked incredibly uncomfortable. </p><p>A smile made its way onto her face, which was so like him. In fact, it was the most Mycroft thing someone could do. Who else in their right mind would dress so formally in the comfort of their home other than Mycroft Holmes? </p><p>Although it would have been even stranger if he had been barefoot, she figured. Y/n couldn't even picture Mycroft without shoes on because the idea was so absurd… he probably had very pale bony feet with long toes. </p><p>Y/n started laughing, as Mycroft returned with a towel, she covered her mouth and tried her best to stop but she couldn’t. She couldn’t stop imagining his feet, it was odd, but now she wanted to see them for herself, just to see if they were even real. </p><p>“What’s so amusing?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. </p><p>“You’re wearing shoes inside,” she sighed looking up at him, eyes filled with adoration. “Really fancy looking shoes.”</p><p>Mycroft tilted his head, he wasn’t quite sure what was so humorous about that.  “And that’s amusing because?”</p><p>“I just- I just love that about you. It’s just such a Mycroft thing to do,” she shrugged, a small smile still present on her face.</p><p>He smiled back, “an odd thing to love about someone.”</p><p>“True,” y/n hummed, drying her hair. “but I can't help it. I love all sorts of things about you.”</p><p>Mycroft felt his throat tighten. “Like what?” He asked despite better judgment. </p><p>“Besides the shoe thing?” Y/n joked. “Well let's see...I love that sweet tooth of yours, how you get into petty arguments with your brother, that you’re a workaholic, that you have an eye for detail.” She shrugged, “things like that.”</p><p>Mycroft stared at y/n, who was still wringing her hair out, he was absolutely speechless. </p><p>He had never considered that any of those things about him were lovable, or even tolerable, but her response was so genuine and honest that he doubted this was any kind of malice or cruelty behind it. </p><p>It was just rather difficult for him to accept. </p><p>Y/n tilted her head to the side, as Mycroft went quiet, his brows drawn downward as he thought hard about something. </p><p>“I love things about you as well,” he finally admitted, his gaze not meeting hers. He had hoped to announce his feelings in a more formal way, perhaps over a candlelit dinner at a nice restaurant, but he worried he wouldn’t have this chance again. </p><p>Y/n grinned widely in response as she watched Mycroft’s face turn pink. “Looks like we’re feeling the same way then.”</p><p>Gently cupping his face, she leaned towards him pressing her lips to his. Mycroft’s hands found her waist, guiding her closer to him. </p><p>As the kiss grew deeper, y/n wrapped her arms around his neck, her fingers curling around his hair. Mycroft savored the feeling of having her so close, just this morning he was prepared to give up on ever having anything like this. He smiled against her lips, the nuzzled his nose against hers for a brief second. </p><p>As they pulled away, Y/n glanced down at her feet, “Mycroft, can I ask you something?”</p><p>He nodded, “of course.”</p><p>“Did you lose your phone?” She asked. “I was worried sick about you today.”</p><p>Mycroft looked puzzled for a moment before recalling that he had turned his phone off. He chuckled a bit, “Would you believe that I turned it off and forgot about it?”</p><p>Y/n gasped, feigning shock, “Never! Mycroft Holmes would never do something so irresponsible.”</p><p>“Come,” Mycroft offered her his hand. “I’ll prepare some tea to warm you up.”</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>